Tessa blinked. “Go where?”
“To answer a very important question Roman asked me yesterday.”
That silenced everyone—including Atlas.
Lacey grabbed her purse from the entryway and yanked open the front door the very moment a sleek and familiar Porsche rolled into the driveway, stopping her in her tracks.
Roman.
She bolted out, running into the driveway as he stopped. He climbed out of the sports car, confusion flickering across his faceas Lacey dropped her bag and every doubt she ever had and ran to him, arms outstretched.
“Roman! Roman!”
He blinked in surprise but scooped her up when she crossed the driveway and launched herself at him, arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist.
“Yes,” she said, breathless and laughing and crying all at once. “Yes, yes,yes!”
Roman laughed, stunned, arms catching her automatically as he spun them once before setting her down. “Lace?—”
“Yes,” she repeated, pressing her forehead to his. “I’m terrified and I’m sure and I love you and I’m done pretending I don’t know what matters. I will marry you, Roman Matteo. I will happily and joyfully marry you!”
Lowering her to the ground, he inched back, and for one horrifying second she thought he was going to say he’d changed his mind.
Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the ring box, and dropped to one knee again right there in the driveway.
“Yes,” she said, tears streaming before he got a word out. “A thousand times, yes.”
He slid the ring onto her finger, stood, kissed her deeply. Her heart thumped, her lungs squeezed, and somewhere behind her, she heard the noisiest cheer from her family on the porch.
Seamus hooted like a fan in the stands and Tessa screamed at the top of her lungs.
When Roman lifted her and twirled her in the air, Lacey just dropped her head back and soaked up the best moment of her life.
“Another escapade?” Maggie whined with the same high pitch she’d heard her little granddaughter give when she simply did not want to do something.
She sure as heck did not want to go back to Buckhead and spy. All Maggie wanted was to go home—and by home, she meant Destin. She was equal parts exhausted, discouraged, and sorry she and Jo Ellen had ever embarked on this adventure.
“We’ve seen nothing,” she said as she backed out of Barbara’s driveway, confident that she and Jo Ellen had left the house in the same perfect condition they’d found it.
“We have one more shot,” Jo Ellen said. “Let’s do a drive-by at lunchtime and see if he leaves the office with her. If not, we can chalk it up to suspicions but no lipstick on collars, no hotel rendezvous, no canoodling.”
Maggie adjusted the rearview mirror and mentally planned her route to Lenox Road. “Canoodling? That’s the gold standard now?”
“It has always been the gold standard,” Jo Ellen replied primly. “You cannot cheat without canoodling and the only canoodling Anthony did was spend a whole lot of time on that ride-around mower last Saturday.”
“And never even noticed I’d tended my own rose garden.” Maggie narrowed her eyes. “He’s not forgiven for that sin.”
“But he’s not a cheater.”
“Wethinkhe’s not,” Maggie corrected.
As they drove into Buckhead, the mid-morning sun slanted across the glass buildings, and Maggie felt the weight of uncertainty press on her chest.
“I hate this,” she said quietly. “I hate doubting him.”
“You’re not doubting him,” Jo Ellen corrected gently. “You’re doubting Crista’s doubt.”
Maggie blew out a breath. That was uncomfortably accurate.
